Skywalker Records
by Lady Viola Delesseps
Summary: The encrypted information written by Shmi Skywalker in the data tablet found by the Darklighter family when they bought the Lars Moisture Farm on Tatooine. It is a diary recording the origins of the Skywalker family and a mother's life with the young future Darth Vader.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hello. My name is Shmi. Shmi Skywalker. It is a proud name, passed on through generations of my family. But it will stop here. And yet, it will not stop here.

The proud name of Skywalker will end with me, for I am a woman. Even if I were to marry and have children someday, which is not likely, for I am thirty-one, and no one has ever loved me, they would bear my husband's name and heritage. And yet it will not stop here, for in the memory of this data tablet, I will record for posterity some of my history, and hopefully, some of my future as it slowly orbits to become my present. I must admit, not all of my intentions in this are noble and future-minded. I am sorrowful. I am often confused. And I am always lonely. Let me begin to tell you why, if I can. Thank you for reading this, whoever you are, wherever and whenever you live. I hope you can try to understand this tale and bear with me as I record of the legacy of the Skywalkers.

For a while I will be recalling past events. I can only work on this late at night, after Pi-Lippa and the household are asleep. I am always fearful of being found out, for there are minions everywhere that are quick to catch the flash of any device or the faint high whirr of any automatic system.

I was born in BBY 72, I'm told. I don't know this because I could remember the year then, but because I counted upwards from when I was six years old and my mother told me to remember that year as a year that would change my young life. I did not think much of it then, but those words, and her face have haunted my dreams ever since. My father and mother told me we were going on a long voyage in the Outer Rim Territories. Whether that was our destination, or merely along our route I do not know; I was too young to notice or care, though in the years that followed, I thought back and could recall my parents' faces tight with worry and their low clipped conversations whenever I was near. I wonder what the intent of our journey was. I would never know. They did not live long enough to tell me.

It was a dark day, traveling slower than the previous few, ostensibly because we were nearing a belt peppered with many small planets and their accompanying moons, but I remember talking to one of the co-pilots and having him wink at me and say,

"We're low on power, but the pilot won't let on. Says it makes him look dumb." I remember giggling – "dumb" was not a word I was allowed to use often, and somehow the strangeness of hearing it said so casually always struck me as funny. My parents were very old-fashioned and I was always kept under strict observation for politeness, decent comportment, and good grooming. I thank them from the bottom of my heart. If it had not been for their care and attention to me, I would have been sold as a common slave, and subjected to even worse treatment. As things stand, I have been called "valuable" on account of my gentle manners, cleanliness, and education.

But back to the co pilot, a native of Mortis, I believe, now that I think on it. "But don't worry, little brown-head. We'll be able to repower as soon as we reach that –"

And then he stopped talking. I was so young I did not know what had happened, but suddenly he fell to the floor, and was dead. I was left looking up into the face of the murderer of my new friend, and – I later discovered – my parents. I saw their bodies as the pirates rapidly filled the ship and either dispensed with or tied up the crew. I did not know they were dead when I was brutally hustled along by one of the space pirates across the bridge, around the cockpit, along the corridor, and to the portal where they had docked their ship. They lay so still – my father face down on top of my mother – a last attempt to protect her, no doubt. Then I knew, and I cried as I was loaded aboard the pirate's starship and tossed into an unfinished room near the engines with another captive, tied up, like I was. We did not speak the same language, so I gave up trying after several tearful attempts to ask what was happening. And that is how I came to be a slave.

This next part of my life is the most painful and difficult to recall. I can barely remember being sold to my first master, because I was sold again so soon afterward, and then again. I was gotten rid of each time on the slightest offenses. I believe the first time I was beaten was because I sneezed while I was serving at my master's supper table. I was taken to more systems than I knew existed and have learned the rudiments of nearly all of their languages. Only a few of my owners were kind to me. When I must have been about thirteen, I remember the other slaves laughed at me when I began to bleed regularly. I was frightened, and though I must be dying. My mistress took me before her and explained to me what was happening, and told me what to do. Then she sent me away, and did not give me supper for causing disruption among the other slaves. But I am forever grateful to her. She could have laughed too.

This was Pi-Lippa, who is my current mistress. But before I write about here, I must close and get some sleep for the night. I have no fear that anyone will ever find this data tablet until long after she or anyone else who knew me is is gone. I have become very good at hiding things that need hidden. I hope that whoever reads this is reading this after I am dead. It would be too embarrassing to think that someone else might know all I think and feel and do while I am yet alive. And yet, I don't hope to die. I have been there, and come back, and been there, and come back again. I will die whenever I die. A full measure of happiness in life is not mine to take.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Today I have been dreadfully busy. I will tell what I have done, and if there is time, write about Pi-Lippa. Today is her brother's birthday, and she has been intent on giving him an extravagant celebration. Of course, the extravagance is up to the slaves to accomplish, only up to her to plan. The very first thing this morning I awoke to the vibrating on my slave transmitter, something that I shouldn't mention as extraordinary, since through it my current master or mistress has controlled my waking or sleeping and tracked my exact whereabouts since I was six years old. But anyhow, I was the first to rise, as one of the lowest of the household slaves. I am still getting used to my degraded status. I still do not know why I was demoted from being a house servant and given only cleaning duties now, but I suppose I will never know. I am a slave.

And "only cleaning duties" is not what is sounds like. It is certainly less taxing on the mind than being constantly at t everyone's beck and call, looking as smart as possible and behaving as dutifully as you can, but it is far more taxing on the body. I have never been beautiful to look upon, but was just thinking that if I ever had any beauty it has faded prematurely due to these last few months of labor when a voice behind me made me start. It was my master.

"Up so early, Shmi?" he said, looking down the great trailing waterfall of the festive garment that he wore.

"A busy day ahead, sir," I murmured, beginning to go back to my work of rubbing doma wax on every inch of the polished floor, which I hoped to have accomplished before too many feet were up and about and in my way.

"Stand up, girl." My heart skipped a beat. What had I done now? Slowly, I rose and stood, my head respectfully bowed, but figure erect and straight. He saw this. My master does not like his slaves to have any self worth whatsoever. I do not have much, but I can be proud. It is all I have.

"Feeling abused, are we?" he said, beginning to walk a circle around me, a disturbing habit intimidating men get into when around vulnerable women, I have noticed. I hurried to assure him I was not vulnerable.

"Not at all sir, not abused. Confused."

"Confused?" His face creased in surprised at my witticism. It was risky, but I was willing to take my chances.

"Yes, sir, as to why your valuable slaves wax your floors while the ungroomed uneducated ones serve you personally."

He grabbed my arm, and I winced, not from the pain, but because I knew that if any of my fellow slaves overheard that remark I would regret it for months.

"And you are better groomed?" He was so close to me I could smell the eos-thi that he used for perfume, and it gagged me. "Let's see about that..." He began to unfasten my hair, which I normally kept braided back out of my way. Making advances upon slaves was not at all uncommon, but I held my peace, wondering if I should wait for the real affront to begin, or if this was the real affront. Waiting to do what? What could I do?

Fortunately, just then, my mistress hurried by, and her sharp eyes caught sight of me with my hair unfastened – at least, that was the offense she brought before me.

"Shmi!" She exclaimed. "What do you think you are doing? That is for the floors, not beauty treatments. And such a day to misbehave!"

My master jerked the final cross over out of my hair, releasing it freely over my back, and stalked off, calling,

"You had better inspect her for cleanliness. She struck me as a little dusty." I wondered if this was some sort of underhanded insult or pun on the word in their language, but swallowed my pride and dropped to my knees, tossing my hair back over my shoulder, and beginning to hurriedly pass the doma back and forth between my hands along the floor. I half hoped that Pi-Lippa would ask me what had happened, but the other half of me was glad when I heard her feet take her back to her chambers. The rest of the day passed in a blur – we were so busy, but I think the brother (I never did find out which one he was among the guests) had a good birthday. I certainly hope so. I was up long into the night cleaning up afterwards. Now I really must stop, or it will be morning and I will have had no sleep. I am to go to speak with Pi-Lippa first thing in the morning. I wonder if it is good or bad.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hello, again. I have not made a new entry in several weeks, because I have had so much work to accomplish. I was called before Pi-Lippa in the early hours of the morning and asked to explain my complaining attitude that had been reported.

"I have nothing of which to complain, mistress," I responded to her question. "These accusations must be untrue, and whoever has brought them to you is only trying to stir up trouble."

"You are accusing your master of dishonesty and injustice?" I searched her eyes which held mine. She was my only friend – he was the nearest thing I had to an enemy. Her eyes glowed in the early light, unreadable, and enigmatic.

"Of course not. Only of misinformation and zealous concern for the workings of his household."

"I see." Pi-Lippa leaned back, and beckoned for me to sit, but I shook my head. As kind as she had been to me, I could not accept that. I have been tricked by friendly gestures too many times to make the same mistake again. There are enough mistakes in the universe to make without intentionally repeating the same one twice.

"You are a valuable slave, Shmi. And you are also a good woman." I could not believe my ears. General decency was one thing, but actual compliments were quite another. "At the moment, your master has completely overstepped his boundaries in rearranging the household slaves as he has. I will not tolerate it, and intent to show this to him. Do you want to know how?"

Pi-Lippa smiled, and I couldn't help but smile back, even though I hadn't the faintest ideas of how she intended to assert her strong will. She is one of the most willful people I have ever known, and it is strengthened by her good intentions and intellect, not just caprice and selfishness, as so many who have been called strong-willed seem to be at heart.

"You are no longer assigned to cleaning tasks. Or household work." I caught my breath. So I was to be sold, yet again. Was I a favorite of his? Was this, then, retaliation? A greater surprise was in store for me.

"You are clever and quick, and too well-bred for harsh labor. I know many valuable technical skills that I will teach you. I am often bored, and need company. And I will be increasing your value as a slave while doing my will with my own people. Is that clear?"

"Yes –" I managed, wondering whether or not I should show my pleasure. I was not the demonstrative type, but sometimes I wished I were, so others would not accuse me of being stoic or imperturbable. It does happen regularly. Or worse, told that I have no feelings. This data tablet proves I do. I was dismissed, and told to return after I had breakfasted with the other slaves – I did not tell her that I rarely participated in the first meal of the day, preferring to work and then break my fast at noon – and we would commence my training.

It is such a marvelous world of tiny parts and mechanisms. I have learned the inner workings of more devices than I knew existed, and have been lucky enough to fix those brought to me for repair. Today I spent a good several hours cleaning computer memory devices. It is tedious work, but I am finding enjoyment in it, and in finally being good at something at last. I don't yet know how my master is taking this change in my work, but I don't really care. Pi-Lippa is the best mistress anyone would ever want. I told her so today, and she laughed and said I was the best slave anyone would ever want. She also said that when she dies, I am to be freed. I wonder if I should place much hope on that being fulfilled. My heart can't help but quicken at the thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I have been hard at work all day, but now I keep this data pad with me, hoping to make odd entries here and there in between my tasks and repairs. I have fully encrypted it so that it appears to be full of recipes and random notes, but has this record in a hidden file. I wonder if it will ever be unlocked and read.

Just now, an acquaintance and fellow slave, Krace, has come in and asked what I was doing. He is curious and generally kindly, but too nosy, I think. He is always asking what I am doing, and I will either simply tell him, or reply, "My work, as usual." This will usually send him about his business, but he was reluctant to leave today. I know he is not interested in computer memory devices, and besides, has his own work to do. I have been doing my best to avoid him – he seems a little desperate, though so much younger than I. I have promised myself I will never marry a slave. To do so would, in my eyes, forever bind me in slavery as well, and any children I may have. I will not give my master another slave child. And since no free man would ever think twice about a woman in my situation, I know the situation is hopeless. And I am not as young as most are when married. I try not to pity myself, though I do love children, and used to dream of having my own family. After twenty five years of slavery, I am slowly beginning to realize there are many things Shmi Skywalker will never be – some of them are free, married, and truly happy.

But that is not to say I have no friends. Krace, though a bit forward and silly, is a comrade, if not a confidante. The closest thing I have to a confidante is this data tablet. Pi-Lippa nearly is, but the fact that she is also my owner makes it a slightly uneven friendship. And then there is Sorna.

I have never told about Sorna. She is my fellow slave, and a kind soul. In years she is old enough to be my mother, in energy she is young enough to be my daughter, and in heart she tender enough to be my sister. And yet, my habits, difficult life, and natural disposition combine to make me reticent to become a true kindred spirit with her. She was bought just a few weeks ago, to be precise, the week of my entry on the day I offended my master. I assumed he was doing this in retaliation, for Sorna was favored by him for almost ten days after her purchase, an unheard of length of time to be in favor with anyone for a slave in this system.

As soon as the other slaves got over their initial dislike and jealousy of Sorna, she began to befriend nearly everyone here. I don't think a single slave here can say a word of harm about her, because she is a good worker, and pleasant to us all. The one fault she has is eagerness for gossip, which is perhaps why I cannot find it in my to tell my deepest thoughts and feelings to her, as welcoming as her friendship is. I feel sorry I don't even repay her kindness with simple honesty, but I cannot. It is not my way.

Today, she and I were engaged in cleaning Pi-Lippa's refresher when my master entered and they began to speak in low voices. I do my best not to listen whenever a conversation is held in hushed tones, but Sorna takes that as her cue, and she has very sharp ears. However, I could not help but overhear that the topic of their conversation was not a new one – the rumors of a Muun developing powers to manipulate the midichorians scattered throughout the galaxy. I am not familiar with midichlorians and the ways of the Force – my father used to speak to me of such a thing as the Force, but he died before I was old enough to begin asking questions, and so all I know is that it exists, and all I gather is that this manipulation by the race of the Sith is rumored to be an unnatural violation of it's ways. This was once again the topic of my master and mistress's mutterings, but it does not concern me, and is something I do not understand, so I keep my distance from it. The doings of the outside universes, especially those of the Sith, do not interest me in the least. Apparently some new rumor had come, as there has been terrible speculation all evening among the slaves as to what this could mean.

Sorna worked her way over to where I was polishing the edge of the refresher and whispered to me,

"Did you hear what they are saying about –"

"It has nothing to do with us," I interrupted under my breath. "We can only get into trouble being curious of such things."

"That's why it is so interesting..." smiled Sorna, as she moved back around to the other side and began busily tidying the eos-thi bottles and various trinkets sitting about. Pi-Lippa hurriedly left the room, and ordered us to do the same. Sorna scuttled out at the mistress's heels, but I found my way blocked by my master.

"Why is our little technician reduced to cleaning work once again?" he asked.

"I am not a technician, I am a slave who does what she is told," I said, trying my best to go around him, but he would not let me pass.

"Then you will do as I tell you," he said, grasping my wrist in a swift grip, and grasping the neck of my tunic with his other hand, straining it down until my collarbone was visible to his eyes, and the scar left from the implant of my slave transmitter which daily woke me and, I knew, constantly tracked my location. If any escape attempt was made, it would instantly be activated to kill me. He probed the area, causing me to wince as the chip ground against the bone beneath my skin.

"Have you been tampering with this, now that Pi-Lippa has taught you about memory chips, eh?" he said, taking his programmer from his belt and swiping it over my implant. He pressed the button of the transmitter, and pushed me away.

"Your escape radius has been reprogrammed to short distance. You had better remember your place, slave."

This entire evening Krace, Sorna, and the others have been chattering away about everything in the galaxy, but I have hardly heard them. My shoulder aches, and so does my head. I must go. Perhaps tomorrow I will write more.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I should stop recording this perhaps tomorrow nonsense. It is certain to bring on a wave of either overwhelming busyness or terrible occurrences one after the other. I asked my mother if she would tell me the story of when I was born one more time the day before she died. She said perhaps tomorrow. I don't know whether it was busyness or terrible things this time that has kept me from writing – perhaps both at once. I was just beginning to think that I had nothing to tell that anyone in the future would ever need to read, and feeling very despondent. However, I began to have a very strong feeling that I must continue this. Perhaps it is some inter-galactic force – whether it is _the Force_ I will never know, for I know so little about it, but the feeling lingered with me for days, weighting the pit of my stomach, and driving me nearly to distraction until finally I nearly pulled out this data tablet and got myself caught in the middle of rewiring a defective comlink brought to me. I must record this. It is the most disturbing thing in my life, and I believe that my life has been quite disturbed so far. No one will believe me. But they will have to.

I am pregnant. I would not have believed it, but the tests are absolutely positive, and the entire household knows it. I wished more than anything that a fuss had not been made, that tests had not been run for everything that ever plagued any creature in the universe... but Pi-Lippa said she was terribly worried about me – thought she might lose me. I was very ill. And this was the cause...

If I knew anything to swear by, I would swear by it, for I have not been involved with anyone, man or creature, that could have caused this. I protested the diagnoses most vehemently, until other circumstances have gradually joined forces to prove me wrong. Sorna is the only one who pretends to believe me, but it is only because she is the most incredulous of all, and thinks I may be out of my mind. I am going to have a child. A slave child. A slave child who has no father.

I cannot begin to understand what could have happened. I cannot explain it. But it is true – I have not only been proved wrong by the functions of my body, but by an innate feeling of connection and love to this other being– and it is inside me. Krace has been behaving like a fool around me now, and Sorna and Pi-Lippa have been making such a fuss. I know they mean to be kind, but no amount of kindness will dispel my confusion. And I am a slave. Slave women conceive, slave women carry children, and slave women give birth without a master or mistress half noticing, let alone caring. But slave women don't conceive children by themselves. Or so I thought.

No one will let me alone as to who the father of this child is. I have told them time and time again – there is no father. I have taken to crying every night in confusion and exhaustion. Every night Sorna comes and lays by my side and strokes my hair back from my brow until I sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I hardly know what to make of anything anymore. I thought there were rules to the ways of the Force in the universe, but apparently , somehow, they have been violently overridden. I cannot believe that I am any special case. Why would the Force converge around a slave woman? Yet that is what Pi-Lippa told me is the likely explanation. It makes no sense. I try to lose myself in my work, but it is not as absorbing as it once was. I have begun to restore the damaged and ruined tools given to the slaves to work with. My master told me I could not waste my time on junk, and to do real work for them. But when he leaves the room, I finish quickly and go back to them, or to this data tablet. The tools will work much better after they are cleaned and restored properly. Someday I would like to learn to clean and repair droids, but owing to the free will and droid slavery controversy, Pi-Lippa does not have many around. I wonder if the talk of my being freed will in fact, come to fruition.

I say this because Pi-Lippa is very ill. I have known it for some time, for I could sense it when we spoke, and see in her eyes that something was not in balance, but no one realized how serious it is. You who are reading this – please do not think badly of me. Pi-Lippa has been a kind mistress, and by teaching me various technical skills, she has forever increased my value. I do not hope that she dies. I merely wonder what will become of me in the event that she does.

Earlier she called me in to her chamber, and bade me sit with her for company. I told her I was greatly honored, and seated myself on the floor by her bedside. However, she beckoned me to sit upon the chair nearby, saying with a smile,

"You are more valuable now that you carry the promise of another within you."

I felt a warmth rush up my cheeks, not from embarrassment, but with disdain. She meant that I would be providing them with another slave that they did not have to buy. Suddenly I realized why slave owners were so lenient in the matters of their slaves marrying each other, and conversely, why so many slaves seemed to wait until later in life before marrying, if they married at all. Tears come to my eyes as I think on it. My child will be a slave, like me. I never wanted this to happen.

As soon as I was finished amusing Pi-Lippa with the doings at my repair station and listening to her discourse on the joys of bearing children, something I think she meant kindly, but that I found difficult to take, I was dismissed, and rose to leave. I met my master in the corridor. His behaviour has been most confusing, and disturbs me. As on other occasions since my condition – it is still difficult for me to reconcile myself with any "condition", let alone this one – was discovered, he treated me with compassion, with lenience. With tenderness... It is both pleasing and disturbing at one time. He must have a motive, I just must not be shrewd enough to guess it yet.

"Shmi," he greeted, smiling. "How is everything?"

"Well enough, the doctor is with her now," I replied, giving him a small smile. As distasteful as he can be sometimes, I believe he truly loves Pi-Lippa.

"No. With you. And the little one." He reached toward me, and I took a step back without realizing that I did so. I half expected his face to cloud with anger, and to be struck across the face, as had happened before when I asserted myself. But in inter-galactic code, it is illegal to strike or otherwise harm a pregnant woman. That is how the law reads – there is no provision for slave or free. My master abides by this. I wonder if this child shall not prove to be my protection, even before it is born.

"Tell me." He said. I knew what he meant, and bowed my head, taking a deep breath.

"I have told you. There is no one. I don't understand it."

"Nor do I." His voice was even – civil. I could not believe that this topic would be the segue into a normal conversation with my owner. "And if I were you, I would not persist in this. Everyone will either think you mad, or a threat."

"A threat to whom?" I was conscious of carefully regulating my tone of voice to be within the realm of respect, even though my mind reeled with confused conjectures.

"They will think you are claiming something supernatural. A power, perhaps, that is with you. With your child. I cannot think of many who would feel comfortable with that being said about – a slave."

My implant suddenly gave a sharp throb, and I muffled the urge to cry out as I clutched my shoulder and fell forward. My master had pressed a button on his programmer, and now caught me as I fell, not setting me to rights, but whispering in my ear,

"We can give this child a father. All it takes is a word – a glance..."

The blood drained from my face, a combination of the pain in my transmitter and shock as I realized what he meant.

"I could never lie– "

He patted the device that controlled the life, and – the thought suddenly struck me, making me feel sick with fear – the life of my tiny child, and smiled.

"You will do what I tell you."

I do not know what is going to become of us.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Tests were run after the doctor finished with Pi-Lippa. I wanted to protest, but my mistress insisted, and I was forced to submit to the scanning. The child will be a boy. Somehow I knew it – a strong boy who will be my protection. It was kind of her to do this for me; I do not need to tell you how uncommon it is for owners to provide medical attention to their slaves, let alone something optional, like a scan. I asked her if we could keep it a secret, but Sorna was with me while I was scanned. Pi-Lippa sensed my distress and called her in to hold my hand. Of course, that was kind, and I am grateful to her. But I cannot help but feel that it cannot be much of a secret if Sorna knows. For is Sorna knows, so will the rest of the household.

My master does his best to encourage talk about their being something between us, and there is not much that I can do. But I don't think anyone really believes he could be the father of my child. At least, that's what I hope, for it is the falsest lie that was ever planned, and I cannot think what he might stand to gain by it's belief unless it is pride in the facts that he seduced a slave, or control over my son after he is born.

Every week brings with it something new. My work never grows old, for though cleaning computer memory devices is mostly the same from memory to memory, there is always something new or different about each repair I endeavor. I am enjoying the feeling of competence I have in technical things – I am beginning to believe more strongly in the Force every day, and that it is guiding my life and work. And my son is growing in size and strength each passing day. After the initial rumors, the novelty wore off for several months in the slaves quarters, but now that my stomach gives daily witness to the growing child, I have hardly a minutes peace from the women. The men have grown humorously awkward, even Krace. That is the only improvement.

I can feel my son stir within me nearly every hour of the day, and he moves all through the night, often keeping me awake. Sorna is the only one I don't mind letting to feel him kick. The others try on occasion, but I dislike it so much that I think my son senses it, and will almost never behave for them. I was often feeling poorly for several months, but now I feel quite well, and do all sorts of extra work my mistress assigns me, such as waiting the table when they have guests, and polishing the floors. My back aches when I do the latter of those tasks, but it is not my place to complain. The happiness this child brings is already more than worth any discomfort that has come with his existence inside me.

I must close, Sorna is curious as to exactly how many recipes and notes about technical devices I can possibly have, and the glow from this tablet can be seen up the stairs. Farewell for now.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

My son, Anakin Skywalker, was born today, in the early hours of the morning. It was late last night when the doctor was called from the medcenter because I was in a great deal of pain. Sorna was with me the whole time, and Pi-Lippa sent me a message just a few hours ago that had she been better, she would have attended upon the birth herself. It was a long ordeal, and I am exhausted, but happier than I thought possible to at last have my long-loved son in my arms.

He is beautiful. His mouth is perfect and full, his eyelashes lay down on his round cheeks like a fringe of zoosha and his hair is fluffy and light. Sorna remarked on it the moment he was born, before he was even held up for me to see:

"His hair is not dark, Shmi! It's not dark!"

I wonder if he will even look like me at all. There will be time enough to find that out when he is older. For now, all I want to do is hold him, nurse him, and love him.

His eyes are open now, and he is looking around. They are cloudy and blue, and seem to me to be extraordinarily intelligent. But perhaps I think that just because I am his mother.

I am his mother. I am all he has, and he is all I have. Together, we can face anything. I am too tired to write more. Pi- Lippa has given me all of the day to rest and told me to return to work tomorrow afternoon. I could hardly believe when Krace told me. But for now I am going to rest with my little Ani.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It has been such a long while since I have had time to record anything, although hardly a minute passes when I haven't resisted the urge to pull out my tablet and enter every little thing Ani does. When he began to hold his head up on his own. When he cries. When he learned to cough. The first time he laughed. The day when he cried so hard that he began to cough, and then laughed.

His hair is now thick, and blonde, his eyes a deep blue. I keep him with me all day as I do my work, and at night, he entertains the other slaves in our quarters with his amiable personality. Pi-Lippa loves it when I bring him in to see her. She has been so much worse lately. It pains me to see her so ill, when she has been so kind to both me and Ani. The doctors give her little hope to live much longer.

My master has been ignoring and avoiding me completely since Ani's birth. For whatever reason, he no longer shows much interest in us at all. That is fine with me. He has been very busy communicating with the system of Anison and helping to sponsor the foundation of a new academy of some sort, as well as petitioning the system's authorities to sign the Keitumite Mutual Military Treaty. At least those are all words that I hear from Sorna, who serves in the dining room. I don't understand half of what I hear, but someday, someone reading this may find it interesting to hear of these things. But then, they may prove to be but small news in light of other happenings yet to come. I know not, nor do I want to. My world is complete with little Ani, and though I want so much more for him someday, I know that my life concerns only computer memories and slave transmitters. I'll leave the treaties and petitions and academies for the more ambitious, those even more ambitious than Sorna, who will always be a slave, like the rest of us here.

I do want to record that Ani has begun to talk now. You may say that it is a mother's pride, but I do think he is unusually intelligent, for he is only seven months old and can already say words quite clearly (at least I can understand him). Just this morning, he told me quite plainly that he wanted to hold the droid memory that I was wiping. No believed me downstairs, because sure enough, as soon as I told a few of the other slaves what he had said, Ani refused to make a sound for the rest of the evening. He is a willful lad, I think, and is already curious and adventuresome. He is sleeping by my side as I record his. The Force will be strong with him, that I know. I now believe in it, strongly, and implicitly. I do not know much, but I hope my son can understand it fully, and perhaps explain it to me someday.

Earlier, Sorna told me something that she overheard.

"Did you hear about Pi-Lippa's brother?" she asked me, as I set aside my work and took a brief rest to nurse Ani.

"No – what it is?" I asked.

"Apparently there is a legality that was put in place when she married our Master. Since her parents live on another system, and could not witness her marriage, he was listed as her legal protector, and, in the event that there were no inheritors, her legal heir."

"Sorna, that has nothing to do with us," I gently reminded her, trying to curb this latest rumor before I heard more than was good for me. The last time my attempts had failed, and I was caught up in a discussion of various experimental reproductive practices between different species in a neighboring galaxy. I learned much more than I ever wanted to know about such things, and when I made my last protest, Krace said,

"You ought not to be squeamish about such things, Shmi, you would know all there is to know already!" I liked to think he was teasing, but I don't like the idea that all the other slaves think I have been immoral or intimate with someone. Must I say yet again –_ Ani was conceived in me without the help of another_?

Sorna went on to say, "Shmi, it has everything to do with us. If Pi-Lippa were to die, then her husband would be under legal obligation to divide the estate – including the slaves – with him."

"How is that?" I asked, shifting Ani on my arm beneath my mantle, "Does not the master have the rights to his wife's property after he marries her?"

"Not in Pi-Lippa's case. You know how independent she is. Apparently she refused to sign over her property to her husband, and retains full rights to her own money and slaves. That is why she is so protective of you, and is so assertive with the use of her money."

I was beginning to understand, but still did not like the drift of the conversation, which was based on the assumption that our mistress would die.

"We do not know anything yet, Sorna," I said, placing the dozing Ani in a comfortable heap with my mantle in the corner, and returning to my stool to finish oiling some parts I had been given.

"We will soon enough," Sorna told me, as she hurried off to her work after a fellow slave wagged a finger at our gossiping.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Pi-Lippa is dead. I was roughly awakened late last night by a hand being clamped over my mouth and a mouth close to my ear whispering,

"Come on, and be quiet about it. Your mistress is dying, and wants to see you."

"But, my son –" I began.

"Leave him." Casting a glance back at my slumbering child, I accidentally nudged the foot of Sorna where she slept. She stirred, and opening an eye, nimbly assessed the situation and with a stealthy hand, reached her arm around Ani and slid him closer within her arms without disturbing his peaceful dreams. I gave her nearly undetectable smile in gratitude, hurriedly twisted my hair together over my shoulder, and followed my master through the midnight darkness of the house.

The doctor was bent over Pi-Lippa, and had just finished administering a final injection of medicine. As I approached, I saw that it was the expensive bota extract from the planet of Drongar, something I had only heard of, but never seen. It must be very bad indeed, for such a powerful drug to be used.

"This will stabilize her, but only for a few minutes. Her count has already decreased to nearly undetectable levels."

My master's face was grim and unreadable. Pi-Lippa opened her eyes, and held out a thin hand for me to take.

"Shmi," she managed.

"Mistress," I responded, bowing my head upon her hand and closing my eyes in silent sympathy with her pain. "Thank you for your goodness to me and Ani. It will not be forgotten."

"You are to be –" she began, but a fit suddenly seized her, and she shook violently before subsiding into pale inertia. The doctor and my master turned away. She was dead.

Since then, I have wondered what she would have said. I was to be – what? _Freed_? I will never know. Everything has been a terrible hustle and bustle as the estate is divided and many slaves are being given to relatives, or auctioned off. Ani and I have been sold to Pi-Lippa's brother, the one whose birthday celebration was such a fuss. Tomorrow we make the long journey to his estate, along with Krace, and several other slaves. Sorna is to be sold to a distant relative on the planet of Tatooine, which I have never heard of. Apparently it is in the Outer Rim Territories, and I may have even seen it when I was a child, traveling with my parents, but I wouldn't have known. Perhaps it was the tiny sphere my friend the co-pilot was pointing out to me before he was killed. To me it looked more like a star. I seem to have so many memories of unfinished sentences, leaving me forever wondering what was to be said. When I die, I hope to finish my last words, so no one will wonder what Shmi Skywalker meant to say to her son Ani – _I love you.. _I never want him to doubt that.

What a morbid train of thoughts. I bid a sorrowful farewell to Sorna just a few hours ago, and have retired to bed early, since I missed several hours of sleep last night, and must depart for my new master's first thing tomorrow.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Pi-Lippa's brother is just like her, but on a more extravagant scale (if that is possible). We arrived midday after a long trek, at our new home. The first thing this morning we were arranged and ready to go while our master (I should say my former master) spoke a few words to some of us. He walked down the line and stopped before Ani and me. Ani is now crawling, and always eager to be on the move, and he squirmed, but I held him tightly as we were looked over from head to toe.

"Don't let that boy cause any trouble to your new master," he said, and then he was gone. Goodbye, old master.

We were greeted by the members of the household, and taken to our quarters, which are very much like those at Pi-Lippa's. Then we were allowed to rest and learn the geography of the house for the remainder of the day, as our master was away attending the funeral ceremony for his sister. I have been assigned to outdoor work in the phosphorescent gardens on account of my age, being too old for what he prefers to see about his house, but too young for any of the station work such as cooking.

I took Ani for a tour of the gardens, guided by a BT-800 droid, who seems to have quite a rudimentary processor for a class one droid. Perhaps that is why our master needed a slave to tend to his gardens. They are beautiful, but vast. I wonder if between the BT-800, myself, and Ani, we are to be responsible for the upkeep of the entire rare phosphorescents collection.

Krace has been assigned to be a personal aide on account of his youth and good looks, I'm sure. I just saw him in his new livery and he looks like a new creature. I already miss Sorna, and, so does Ani. This morning, back at Pi-Lippa's, just after those that were being sold had their transmitters reprogrammed, Ani looked up and put one of his small hands on my mouth.

"Sorna?" He said, quite clearly. I shook my head.

"Goodbye, Sorna." I pointed over to where she stood, trying not to look sad. She waved to us.

"'Bye," Ani said, waving his chubby hand and then wriggling to be let down and get about on his own. I let him, knowing that later he would be so tired I could carry him while he slept. I underestimated his energy. He is fascinated by 'T-800 and, and the droid seems to be rather tolerant with him, allowing him to inspect every inch of his durasteel appendages and extra tool arms, and touch his shiny eye.

I reflect on one thing with joy and relief – this would have been the month that Ani would have received a transmitter implant himself. He is quite mobile now, and will be walking on his own soon. But because of my mistress's death and the hustle and bustle of being sold, it has been forgotten. I only hope that he is not inspected too closely by our new master. Perhaps he can live his life free of such a device. But it must always remain a secret. I cannot find it in me to scar him on his round perfect shoulder, though to do so would be wise and perhaps save his life in later years should he be inspected.

I had better close, and write more sometime soon. I intend to leave off recording for several weeks while we adjust here, and become established in good working habits. I also will need time to know who to trust in letting them see me doing this.

Ashjb iowja natyak12gl'.,

Ani entered the above with his little hands. He is always trying to do whatever I do. I hope that I can always be a help to him, and not a hindrance. Don't laugh at that. I know that though I have to do everything for him now, there will come a time when he is older, taller – wiser, stronger than I am. That is what I both dream about and dread. Someday this little blonde adventurer will be a tall strong-limbed young man. I will never have little Ani again. I hope the Force wills that I shall have something better in his place.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

We are in the awfullest place, on the awfullest system now. Pi-Lippa's brother kept us for three years, and now we have been sold again. There is such a great amount that I have not been able to record. Anakin talking all the time now. Anakin walking. Anakin running. I can hardly believe it. He will be four tomorrow, and is very interested in our new home.

We are on the planet of Tatooine, where there are two suns and never any rain. I even hear that in this system the farmers cultivate moisture for harvest. Such a thing strikes me as dreadfully strange, but I am beginning to understand why. There really is no moisture here. What else could anyone farm? (How could anyone farm anything else without the moisture?) It is a sharp contrast from the work in the phosphorescent gardens of Pi-Lippa's brother. It was backbreaking work, but in beautiful surroundings. Now we have been bought (nearly stolen, for I overheard the price, but never mind that) by a crime-lord that rules these parts. At least that is as much as I can gather. This is a wild, untamed place of robbing, cheating, and killing, so far in the Outer Rim that no law enforcement ever even hears about it. It is the hottest, dustiest place imaginable. There have been two sandstorms already, and we have only been here three days.

Gardulla the Hutt is the name of our owner – Hutt being a race, rather than a family name, as I at first thought. I expected Ani to be frightened of Gardulla, as I admit I am (but only because I do not understand anything here yet), but he is not in the least. As far as I can tell, slave dealing is one of the many venues in which Gardulla makes a fortune, and I do not yet know if we are to be kept and used for work, or simply resold at a higher price.

More later. This is extremely dangerous. We have no friends here.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I am learning more about the city where we we are. It is a space port called Mos Espa, and just outside the city is a great desert that everyone calls the Dune Sea. I overheard that it once was a great sea of water, but I can hardly believe that, since now it is such a wasteland. The only fresh things I have seen so far here have been a sort of gourd and something I saw being made in the marketplace – a sort of green mixed with a strange-smelling sauce.

"What is that?" I asked in Basic, hoping that the old woman beginning to roll the concoction into a ball could understand me. She told me it was called ahrsia, then gave us an ancient smile.

"You're new here, aren't you, slave." I was a bit taken aback, wondering how she knew I was a slave, but I broke her shrewd gaze for a brief moment to call,

"Ani, come here. Don't wander off."

"I wasn't wandering off, Mom," he said, giving me a charming smile. "Just wandering around."

The old woman fixed her eyes on my son, and looked him over. "A fine child."

"Thank you. My name is Shmi Skywalker, and this is Anakin." We shook hands, and she introduced herself as Jira. Beckoning to Ani, she leaned forward from where she sat behind her market booth, and said in a low voice.

"Would you like to hear a tale, young one?"

Anakin nodded, and moved closer to her, within the reaches of the shade cast by the dome-shaped house behind her as the suns set. I followed cautiously, not sure if this was a good idea or not. And then Jira held out the unmistakeable hand, palm up, and shook it.

"Two peggats for my tale."

I shook my head, my hand on Anakin's shoulder. "We are slaves. We have no money. Let's go, Ani."

"No, stay, stay..." the old woman waved her hands. "I will tell it for little Ani."

She proceeded in an awful tale of a 3P0-series droid called N0-T0 that she asserted wandered the streets of Mos Espa, playing the disturbing recording of a young woman's screams as she was murdered.

"It has wandered across the deserts all over this planet, but always returns to haunt the streets of Mos Espa. It has been scored with blaster marks and has traveled trackless wastes, but never been captured, not even by the Jawas. And they say –" she finished, looking at my wide-eyed son mysteriously, "that it is surrounded by the Dark Side of the Force."

"What's the Force, Mom?" Anakin asked me, turning so he could look up into my face. I shook my head.

"Nothing you need to worry about. That's enough for one day." We rose, and bade our farewells, accomplishing the errand we had been sent on, and returning to Gardulla's residence. I wish that such things hadn't been put in my son's head.

I was beaten severely upon our return for taking so long. Ani was outside while it occurred, for which I am thankful. When it was finished, I went out to find him, and he came running into my arms.

"I thought you got lost," he said, hugging me tightly, and not noticing my welts and bruises. I kept myself from wincing at his embrace, and told him,

"Come on. To bed now."

He is full of questions. "Mom, how come I have to listen to you, and I also have to listen to Gardulla?"

"Gardulla is our owner, Ani," I said softly as I tucked him snugly in on his sleeping pad. "We both have to do what we are told."

"Even you?"

"We are slaves," I said, smiling, although I'm sure it was a sad smile. "We don't have a choice."  
"I wish we did." Disagree with me if you wish, but he is no ordinary child to be thinking these things at four years old. But then, just as I was mulling over in my head what I could possibly tell him to make him understand, he gave a little start.

"What is it?" I said, glancing around, and not seeing anything. His voice was small.

"Do you think that N0-T0 would come here?"

I knew this would happen. I stroked his hair back from his forehead and planted a kiss there. "Of course not. That is a lot of nonsense that Jira likes to make up to scare people."

"But she was nice."

"Yes, she was. But there is no reason to be scared. That story probably isn't even true."

"I'm not scared, Mom," he told me. But just a moment ago he told me the light from this data tablet was nice to look at in the dark, and asked if I would share his sleeping pad like I used to. I love him so dearly.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Since the day of my first misdemeanors in the market place, I have been continually beaten and punished for various offenses I never intended to commit. I have various tasks I am to accomplish, but mostly just doing what I am told by any and everyone about this horrid place. Ani saw me being beaten today for the first time, and the effect it had on him was shocking.

I expected him to cry, or to stand there looking frightened, or to run from the room. As soon as it was finished, and I began to slowly stand up from the ground, I caught sight of him – a small pale-haired figure standing in the corner. My heart sunk – I did not know he had been watching. But he neither cried with fear nor ran anywhere at all. He just stood there, with the most upsetting expression on his face. His eyes practically glowed, and his teeth were set firmly behind his round mouth, his hands clenched into fists by his side. He did not move until Gardulla and the others left the room. Then he ran to me, and gave me a hard hug. I held him close, and kissed the top of his head. He pulled out of my embrace quickly, and looked up at me.

"Why did they do that to you, Mom?" he demanded, his brows drawn together. I sighed, and wiped a stray tear away from my face.

"Don't worry about it, Ani," I began, but he gave me a little shake.

"Why? Is it because you are a slave?" I nodded. The next question came quickly.

"Am I a slave?" Shaking my head violently, I knelt down and looked him in the eye., speaking in a low voice.

"No. You are a person, Ani. You are not a slave. People may tell you that you are, you may have to work hard for someone else, but you do not belong to them. You are your own person, and nobody can change that, no matter what happens."

He listened with attentive eyes, and then we hugged one last time. "Can we run away?" he whispered, his face pressed against me.

"No. I can't. Remember this?" I tugged on the neck of my tunic and showed him the scar left from the implant of my transmitter. Anakin felt his own shoulder. "But, Mom, I don't have one."

"Shhhh," I hushed him. "I have to go to the market now. Do you want to come and see Jira?" We have made a few friends here – there are several young slaves that Ani will play with in the streets of the city when they do not have tasks to do – a young Rodian whose name I haven't gotten yet, as I am not quite fluent in Huttese, and a boy named Kitster. The Rodian is quite a little vandal, and not a very good influence, but his family just moved here, and Ani says that he was lonely before they met. He agreed, and we set off.

At the marketplace we bade hello to Jira, who asked us,

"Are you going to see the hunt later?"

Anything at all is a big event; at the center of the city there is a grand arena used for podraces, so I hear (though I have never seen it), but apparently a race had been canceled and instead a group of hunters were going later to track down a herd of bantha that had been sighed near the city.

"I don't know if I will be free," I said, and we began to laugh about whether it was worth it to be out of work to be roasted to a crisp under the hot suns in the name of a little entertainment, and then I noticed that Ani was gone. I assumed that he had run off with some of his friends, and that I would spy them shortly, playing a game in an odd corner, or running about together.

But soon I finished purchasing the large quantity of tezirett seeds I had been sent for, and still saw no sign of Ani. I was beginning to be worried, but I couldn't very well return to Gardulla and ask for the rest of the day off so I could look for my son. I decided to wait and not say anything, in case he showed up soon, lest Gardulla were to think he had purposefully run away.

Then the thought hit me. He asked if we could run away, and then I had basically told him that I couldn't but he could. I have been worried all day, but trying not to show it. He is only five, and doesn't not think about the consequences his actions may have. At last, this evening the question came: where is the little human boy? Then I told what I knew, and a group was immediately sent out over the city and the Dune Sea to look for him. If he is found, he will most certainly receive a transmitter now. I hardly knew what to hope. That he has gotten away? That he will be found?

We wandered the trackless sand for hours under the hot suns and were about to give up when one of the party spotted something not far away – it was a group of riders in the distance, going back toward the city. As soon as they sighted us, they began to head in our direction. One of our group called out to them, and asked what their business was. It turns out that they were the hunting party that left the city several hours ago searching for the herd of bantha, but that they were nowhere to be seen.

"But we did see a lone figure heading south out across the dunes, headed in the direction of Anchorhead. But it's nearly 80 kilometers –" With one accord, the party did an about face and we surged south across the sea, looking for the lone figure. I hardly remember what I was thinking.

At last, the lost herd of bantha was sighted; at it's rear a small figure ran, and then stumbled and fell upon the hot sand. We finally reached him, and I knelt by his side.

"Ani!" I gathered him into my arms, my heart beginning to beat again when he opened his eyes and gave me an exhausted smile. The search party crowded around us, providing a tiny bit of shade in which he was revived with a drink of mineral-laden water from a sidi gourd.

"What on earth are you doing?" I asked him at last, brushing his sweaty hair away from his dirt-streaked face.

"I was chasing the herd away, Mom. I didn't want them caught by the hunters..." he managed at last. I hugged him close. It was a long journey back, and I had to carry him most of the way because my little son kept collapsing from heat and exhaustion, but when we finally reached the city, he had another question ready.

"Mom, if the banthas were caught, would they have been slaves too?" I hushed him, and we hurried inside to get cleaned up and rested as the suns set.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

I have not written in so long. My data tablet has been nearly stolen several times, and I have to keep inventing new places to hide it, which means I cannot get it out very often. Many things are changing, but many things are the same. Anakin is now nearly eight, and becoming a strong, smart lad. I have taught him everything I know about anything technical, and he has already far surpassed me in his abilities to repair anything that Gardulla or any of his subordinates "purchase" (steal). Although he is young, he is headstrong, and several times he has disobeyed me only to show me that his was the better way. The Force is with him, that I know.

Several days ago, on our way back to the city after bartering with a group of Jawas, Ani discovered something lying half-buried in the sand.

"Mom! Look –" he said, beginning to sweep the sand from an inert form covered with a rough sort of cloak. "It's not dead."

It was one of the sand people – as Tusken Raider.

"Ani – come away from it," I told him, speaking in a low voice, but he didn't look up, just continued to unearth the Tusken with quick movements, and gently dust away the sand from the goggle-like eyes and breathing pipes of the visor it wore. And then it moved.

"Anakin," I said more firmly, but stopped short as the creature emitted a terrible honking sound.

"It's alright," my son spoke to it in near perfect Huttese, which I supposed it could understand for they managed a brief conversation, before Anakin looked up at me and said,

"He's wounded. We have to help him. I want to take him home with us."

"We can't," I began, but seeing his face, I modified my protest. "I mean, we shouldn't –"

"Gardulla doesn't have to know. It will be my responsibility. I won't let it interfere with my work, I promise," he pleaded. "If we leave him here, he'll die."

And so now we have one of the Sand People hidden in a nearby hovel, and Ani tends to him day and night between his tasks. Ani says he said his name is URoRRuR'R'R, and they can communicate in basic, and in a rudimentary form of Huttese. I don't like it – the Tuskens are merciless raiders, but Anakin, my young strategist, insists that someday our kindness to him may save us from any harm at the Tusken's hands. However, I have to admire his compassion, patience, and skills in healing. Anakin lets me help a little, and keeps me updated in URoRRuR'R'R's progress, but he would not let me see the wound, or really exert myself in any way on his behalf. He tells me that tomorrow he will be well enough to be sent back to his own people. I must say I will be glad. It is a wonder Gardulla hasn't found out.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I have just now gotten this tablet back from a junk dealer that swiped it last time he was here doing business with Gardulla. He is a Toydarian named Watto, and he has a real eye for spotting something that he could make money from. He is our owner now. I had just finished my last entry when he arrived, and we were all sent back to the slaves quarters, and I made the mistake to leave my data pad where it sat. When I returned, it was gone. At first I had no idea what could have happened to it, and then I began to put things together. It wasn't until Gardulla lost us in a bet to Watto that I told Ani what had happened, and he eagerly embarked on a quest to rescue it, even though I told him it was not important. He says that he found it discarded with other junk outside Watto's shop. I wonder if he is telling the truth. Perhaps he is correct in thinking I might not want to know the real story.

Anakin apprehended several other pieces of broken speeders, droid control systems, and energy binders, and has officially begun his own junk collecting, taking unwanted parts and things he can find anywhere. He says he finds most of his "good stuff" refused even by the Jawas, who will generally pick up anything. His mathematical skills and ability to fix almost everything are truly astounding. The other day he quickly solved a problem in his head that I had been puzzling over for half an hour. He says he is building a pod racer, and that he wants to learn to be a pilot. I don't know whether to encourage him or not. He won't let me see the pod, but Wald (the young Rodian) and Kitster apparently have seen it and don't think it will amount to much.

I have been learning about the sort of thing celebrated out here, and one of them is the celebration of Tatooine's rebellion against the parliament, and named after Boonta the Hutt. Boonta's Eve is the date of a big pod race, and I suspect that is what Anakin is angling for. We were lost in a bet that Gardulla made on Anakin winning the last race. He operated a gigantic racer that nearly hid him from view. He is an excellent pilot I'm sure, but he didn't finish the race, crashing into the pod in front of him on his second lap. I nearly died watching it. I can't believe Gardulla would force a boy as young as he is into something so cruel and life-threatening. The races are terrible and dangerous, and although I know how much Ani loves to hear the stories of the space pilots that sometimes stop here, I never want him to participate again. He may be gifted, but he is still so young.

Youth can mean adventure, or folly. Just the other day Anakin and Kitster were nearly caught in more trouble than I like to think about. Several ghostling children had been captured by a local Dug (Ani asserts it was his fault that he lost the race) and Gardulla was planning to purchase them. But Ani found out and he and his dressed up like Jawas, crept in, and freed the children. I did not know about it until it was all over, but I gave him a thorough scolding.

"But Mom, they were going to become slaves to Gardulla if we didn't do something," Ani protested, crossing his arms. "What were we supposed to do?"  
"If Kitster or anyone else has any more dangerous ideas like this, you should stay away," I told him. "If Gardulla knew it was you that freed the ghostling childen, you could be killed. They were very valuable."

"It wasn't Kitster's idea, it was mine." He spoke it as a matter of pride, not a confession of his complicity. I sighed.

"Go on now," I told him, and couldn't help but smile back as he flashed a grin and ran out the door. It lightens my heart to see that his slavery does not wear him down. More later.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I suppose I should tell about Watto and his shop, and what we do here. Not that it is any great matter of intergalactic importance, but it is yet another owner who insists we do things differently. I do not know much about Watto, but I do not like him. He is unkempt and greedy, and is constantly complaining. But for some strange reason, he has taken a fancy to Anakin, and they get along alright, unless Ani is in a rebellious mood, to which Watto will respond with long streams of Huttese or broken basic.

He is a junk dealer, and it is my job to clean up the new parts he acquires and make them ready for sale. Anakin minds the shop, and likes talking to all the people that come in. I would say almost nothing can disturb him, but something happened yesterday that at the very least disturbed me.

He was wading through the piles of the more valuable junk that Watto keeps in the back of his shop, just in front of a wide curving set of stairs that leads to the courtyard where I do my work, when he discovered something of interest. When I came in, I saw it was an extremely old droid.

"Mom – look at this," he said, giving it a sturdy tug and toppling several generators and a calibration device from on top of the droid.

"I'll bet you anything there's a holoprojector in here," he said, dragging it free, and beginning to tinker on it with his bare hands. "Watto will be so happy."

Just then, he must have hit a button that activated an ancient hologram – it made me feel cold all over even though I did not understand what it was, or what was being said on the recording. It was a mixture of wild projections in a weird blue light, drowned in tortured screams and bellowed orders, mixed with strange mentions of sinister sounding words, one of which I picked out from the chaos: _Sith_.

I jumped for the droid and began to yank at the exposed wiring until I pulled it loose, and the hologram stopped with a dying chirp. Anakin looked at me, his eyes round.

"What was that, Mom?"

"A very old recording from a war, I suppose," I managed. It is probably true. But hearing a mention of the Sith was enough to give me chills, as I knew the last time I heard it mentioned strange and unnatural things began to happen – Anakin...

He was quiet all day, and as soon as Watto sent him home, he asked if he could go work on his pod racer. But when I looked out the back of our hovel, I didn't see him. The confession came as I was tucking him in on his sleeping pad.

"Mom, I lied. I wasn't working on my racer," he said, smashing his face into the pillow and then rolling over onto his back so we could see each other. "I wanted to talk to the star fighter pilot that is in the city."

"That's alright, you should just tell me where you're going," I told him. The pilot has been stranded here for several weeks, and both Wald and Ani can hardly keep away from him and his stories of adventures on distant systems and the legendary Iego of a Thousand Moons where the inhabitants sing beautiful songs and are warmed by stellar gases instead of a sun.

"I asked him about the hologram, and he told me about what the Sith are." I knew that I had frozen in shock, so I made my best efforts to appear normal. "Maybe that wasn't a good idea," I said, steadying my voice. "I want you to forget whatever you heard today."

"It's not that easy, Mom." Ani furrowed his brow. "He said that they are like Jedi, only they started to fight and kill each other and it's been happening for four thousand years. Do you know what else was happening four thousand years ago, Mom?"

I didn't answer because I didn't know if he was asking because he was going to tell me, or if he just wanted to know.

"He said that they are all dead now."

"Oh, did he?" That thought brought relief. "Well, now, you should get some sleep."

"But Mom, I want to know about the Jedi. What are Jedi?"

I admitted that I did not know, and he said that he would ask the star pilot about them next time he saw him.

"I don't want you troubling him with your questions." But what I really meant was I didn't want this space pilot troubling my son with his answers.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Something strange _has_ happened. But it is not the dreadful sort of strange I feared after being reminded of the Sith – I must once again remind myself that no one will be reading this until long after I am dead and gone to even bring myself to write it.

My last entry was several months ago. Since then things have become more regular in Watto's shop, and he has even decided to let me earn some money for myself working from home after I finish my duties at the shop. I was sitting at home, cleaning a computer memory and watching another sand storm begin to brew (and wondering where Anakin was) when he burst in.

"Mom, I'm home!" he called, just as he always did. And then I noticed he was not alone. With him were four others – two tall men in simple apparel wearing traveling cloaks, and a strange creature, the likes of which I have never seen before. He was not really that unusual, considering some of the people who pass through Mos Espa, but I'd certainly never seen anyone like him. Most surprisingly of all, was the smallest of the party, a young girl with long brown hair. She looked to be about 14 and was dressed in typical Tatooine garb, but she did not look like a local inhabitant. The younger of the two men, I found out, is the pupil of the elder, who bears the name Qui-Gon Jinn. The younger man, Obi-Wan Kenobi, by name, calls him Master. The creature is named Jar-Jar (at least that is the best I can make out, his accent is very unusual) and the girl introduced herself as Padme.

I told them they were welcome to take shelter here from the storm, and to stay for dinner. I still have not discovered how they came to be here, and what their purposes are so far in the Outer Rim, but Anakin explained that their ship needed a new hyperdrive generator, and they had come to Watto to find it. For some reason, I am suddenly embarrassed to be associated with that Toydarian, now that I have been in the company of people as refined and honest as they seem to be.

They will stay with us tonight – as long as it takes to talk Watto into a reasonable deal for the generator, Qui-Gon told me. Anakin thinks he is a Jedi, but I don't know. We know next to nothing about the doings in the center of the galaxy (at least I do, I have no idea what Anakin may have picked up), but I do know that they are a kind group of people, and I look forward to knowing them better.

I feel so dreadful that I had nothing better to offer them than the usual sidi gourd, haroun bread and a tezirett seed, but Jar-Jar assured me that "theysa were starvin' and that theysa liken anything and don't spect loto"! Anakin laughs at every funny speech he makes, and both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have taken greatly to Anakin.

I should not write more – at least not until I learn more about these new guests and sort out these strange feelings I suddenly have.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Our guests slept in odd corners last night – Padme used a spare sleeping pad in my room. I wanted to talk to the girl and find out more about how she came to be traveling with this mission, but she seemed very tired and so we both agreed to sleep and socialize on the morrow. Anakin begged for Obi-Wan to sleep in his room (no doubt so he could ply him with questions about everything in the galaxy and show him whatever mysterious project he has been building in the back room that I am not allowed to see) but Obi-Wan said quite firmly that he would sleep wherever his master slept. Jar-Jar, however, took him up on the offer, and I'm sure Ani had a difficult time sleeping with the snores that I heard even from my room. Master and pupil slept rolled in their cloaks in the common room, and politely declined any other mats or coverings that I offered them.

I rose with the suns, and stepped outside onto the parapet to watch them soar higher into the clear hot sky, as I often did. But someone was up even earlier, and arrived at my vantage point before I did. It was Qui-Gon, and he turned as he heard me approaching.

"Good morning, Shmi," he said, his deep voice pronouncing my name sending a queer feeling skittering through my veins.

"Good morning, sir," I replied, folding my arms, and wondering whether or not he wished to be alone. Then he spoke.

"You are probably wondering what we are doing so far from the center of the Republic," he gave a small chuckle. "I must admit, I was beginning to wonder the same thing. Now I think I know."

I stood beside him on the parapet, and wondered aloud, "I thought that your ship broke down and you were stranded..."

"That is the appearance of it. It would seem the Force willed that we land here. Your son is no ordinary boy."

"I'm afraid he does brag terribly – I may have spoiled him, but he is so good at so many things..." I began, but Qui-Gon hurried to correct me.

"He is not bragging if it is true. There is no hiding anything from him. He accidentally saw my lightsaber yesterday, and asked if I was a Jedi."

I looked up at him; his face was firm – inscrutable. "And – are you?" I managed at last. He met my gaze, and finally nodded.

"Yes. But for it to be widely known would put you in great danger. Our mission is important – and secret. It is good that this place is so wild and – shall I say..." he groped for the proper word.

"Unofficial," I supplied, and we laughed.

"Ani is a special boy. The Force is strong with him." I nodded.

"I know."

The question Qui-Gon asked next has been put to me in so many ways, so many times, but never as gentle or trusting as it was put by him– "Who was his father?"

"There was no father." I watched to see his response, and apart from running a hand over his mouth in thought, and the deepening of the lines in his forehead, the answer had no apparent effect on him. I explained the best I could, said what I told everyone else – and finished, "I can't explain what happened."

I would not be surprised if this man could. He seems reserved, but extremely wise. I think there is probably not anything in the universe he could not explain. In some ways I envy his pupil. I never had a gentle knowledgeable person who could guide me through life. I hope that Anakin can.

He is very taken by both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But what surprises me is the amount of time and thought he spends questioning me about the girl, Padme. Ani and I had a long talk about all of this while he tinkered with a torsion valve he hoped to put to use on his pod-racer (which wasn't finished until now there is suddenly a need for it – that alone has me worried). He has come up with what he thinks is a brilliant idea to enter it in the pod race tomorrow on Boonta Eve (which I have been trying to forget, and unsuccessfully trying to get Ani to forget) and use the money to help his new friends pay Watto's exorbitant price for the parts they need.

"I don't want you to do it, Ani. It is so dangerous... and Watto will never let you," I told him.

"Watto doesn't know that I've built it. I have it all worked out, Mom. Qui-Gon is going to -"

"_Master_ Qui-Gon," I corrected.

"Master Qui-Gon is going to make Watto think it is his, and convince him to let me pilot it for him. I'm a good pilot!" he said.

I told him we would decide tomorrow. I just don't know. He did not like that, but after a moment of silence, asked me,

"Mom, do you like Padme?"

"Why, of course I do, Ani. She is a kind girl, and I wish I could find out more about her."

"Me too." My young son's reply intrigued me, so I questioned him further.

"She's different from any other girl I've met," he said slowly, talking out of the side of his mouth like he always did when he was thinking hard about something. "I like her a lot. I think when I grow up, I'm going to be a pilot, and then come back and free all the slaves, and after that, marry her."

Oh, the dreams of childhood. I won't disappoint him about the pod race, and his other plans today.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

It is decided. I don't like it one bit, but it is decided. My son is entering the race this afternoon. All day we have been preparing. Watto has established a deal that is to both his and Qui-Gon's satisfaction, contingent upon the winning of the race, and gaining the hyperdrive. Qui-Gon has wagered his starship on this.

This morning Anakin was up before breakfast, putting the finishing touches on his pod racer. When he finally ignited the power couplings and the vents flared and began to roar, he could hardly contain his excitement. "It's working! It's working!" he kept screaming. I still cannot believe he made it out of random spare parts. He is truly a wonder. He asserts it is the fastest ever, but he has never raced it before. When he raced in Watto's pod, he smashed it up quite badly, and didn't even finish the race.

I am terribly worried, but have been too busy preparing to let it show. Padme has been helping me – or trying to help me- with my work today, so we can attend the race this evening. She is a smart young lady, but doesn't know much about household work. On computers she fares a bit better. I wonder what her background is, and why she is traveling with two Jedi and a Gungan. Anakin said she told him that she was a servant to a queen of some sort, but I told him not to make up nonsense.

In the hustle and bustle of getting everything in order for the race, Ani showed me his secret project. It is a droid – a 3-PO model protocol droid that he built entirely himself. If I didn't know how many hours Ani spent locked in that room, I would not believe that an eight-year-old could construct a completed droid out of junk without a great deal of assistance. And of course, that isn't taking into account that most eight-year-olds, I am discovering, aren't like Ani. Even though C3-PO isn't finished yet, he is quite functional, and has a fully programmable translator in his operating system. Anakin said that it will help me with my work.

I must go. I hope that the Force will guide my little son tonight in this terrible race. "The stakes are high" is something I hear all the time in this gambling city, but it was never more fitting than today.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

It is over. It is over, and Anakin is alive, and well. And he won the race. I cannot begin to record the amount of tampering and cheating and trickery that is involved with this, but it is over, and has turned out well. Qui-Gon said afterwards that this is the most infamously dangerous amateur race in the galaxy. I'm glad I did not know that until it was over. We did not think Ani would make it – he had a slow start, and a few very close calls. Thousands of spectators gathered to bet on their favorite racers, hoping to win a fortune, or to cheer at a particularly horrendous collision. Padme and I watched every moment of the race on a holocast. Tears of pride came to my eyes at the victory of my young son. He is the first human to have ever won this race, they tell me.

But that is not all. I did not know this, but part of the wager Qui-Gon made with Watto was for our freedom. But he would not have it – Qui-Gon told me this very gently after the race. I am to remain a slave, but Anakin is to be freed. He is so excited to be flying in a starship with a Jedi knight.

I am so happy for him. Not for a moment would I wish that he would remain on this hot horrid planet just so indulge a mother's love. I completely trust Qui-Gon with my child. But I still can't help but think this is going to be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. To say goodbye to my son.

He is going to be raised to be a Jedi – Qui-Gon said he will personally train him. He did a blood test just a few hours ago, and I overheard Obi-Wan, who was back on board their ship with Padme, repairing the generator, say that he had a higher midi-chlorian count in his blood than he had ever seen before in a sentient being. Now I must go. If I am strong enough, I will finish this after the departure.

He is gone. An embrace, a last conversation, and my little son is gone. I am going to record every word we said, so that I can read it again and again.

I said to him last night when Qui-Gon told me that he should go. He asked why I couldn't go too, and steadying my voice, I took his hands in mine. I told him that my place and future was here, but that his could be anywhere he wanted. I told him to let go – to let go of me... It made it so much easier to say that he is letting go of me, when in reality it is I that must let go of him.

"I want to stay with you," he said to me. "I don't want things to change." I told him that changes happen, and we can't stop them, no more than we can stop the suns from rising and setting. He thought about this for a while, and then I said,

"Listen to your feelings. They will tell you what is right." When he looked back at me, there were tears shining in his deep blue eyes – eyes I will always have in my mind, and on my heart, every moment of the day.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Mom..." he whispered. I could only nod, and tell him to run off and gather his things as quickly as he could. Qui-Gon was left standing in the entry way, in his kind face a nameless emotion in a vast amount.

"Thank you," I told him. I meant it. Anakin will have a much better life than he could ever have staying here on Tatooine.

"I will watch after him. You have my word." In two long steps he crossed the room and stood before me, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. I covered it with mine and closed my eyes, daring to lean against him for a brief moment. "Will you be alright?" His voice was gentle. I straightened. I still don't know why I did what I did, but I will be forever grateful to his kindness.

"He was in my life for such a short time," was all I could think to say.

Then before I knew it, he was bidding goodbye to his friends, and then began to scamper off after Qui-Gon who had started up the street ahead of him. Then he turned. I will never forget how he looked, the rough loose clothing that he always wore rumpled, and his thick hair catching the suns' rays. He came hurtling back down the street and into my arms, crying quietly.

"I can't do it, Mom. I just can't," he gasped. I knelt and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Remember when you climbed the great dune to chase the herd of banthas away from the hunters? Remember how you kept collapsing and thinking you couldn't do it? I know how strong you are, Ani. I know you can do this. You must..."

"Will I ever see you again?" The question struck me like a laser beam in the heart.

"What does your heart tell you?" My voice, unlike my emotions, sounded calm and controlled.

He wiped his face and squinted in thought and at last nodded. "I hope so... yes... I guess."

Giving me a fierce hug, he whispered against my shoulder, "I will come back and free you, Mom."

I told him that no matter where he is, my love will be with him. I told him to be brave, and not to look back. If there is anything I have learned in my life of hardship, it has been to never look back.

Now I must hold myself to the charge I gave my son. Somehow, I feel that if I am strong, he will be too, and yet, I know that as long as he is strong, he will by my strength as well, no matter where he is. I watched them until the bright sun reflecting on the hot sand hid them from view.

The house is so quiet.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

I knew this would happen. Either I would begin recording much more often with nothing else to do, or months would go by, and I would feel that I have nothing worth writing about anymore. I reread my last entry nearly every day after Anakin left for several weeks, and then once every few months, and finally, not at all. This is the first time I have gotten out this datapad to write, and not to relive those last moments with him. I have not been nearly as strong as I would like to admit.

But time is a great healer. It has been several years since then, and although I hear tell of great things happening in the center of the Republic, little has changed out here, unless it is that business is getting worse.

Watto was dispirited for a long while, and it took me quite some time to realize that he was missing Ani. Although I don't exactly like him, we have become better friends as times have become harder – I will scavenge vaporator mushrooms, desert sage and the like for food for us, and he will often grant me a reprieve from my duties. He has also deactivated my transmitter – in the years after Anakin left, I was often depressed, and he was worried I would wander off and it would activate to kill me.

Right now I am watching the shop for Watto while he attends another pod race – he has been betting heavily, and I think that is the cause of his monetary deficiencies, not business. I cannot say. But he never wins.

Earlier there was man named Cliegg Lars and I"m presuming his son that came into the shop looking for a part to repair a moisture vaporator. Apparently they live in the great Chott Salt Flats, and have lived there for some time, but never come into Mos Espa that Watto could remember. I am only recording this because they come back again in the evening – Watto does not have the part they need, but they mentioned they have been looking for a droid that can speak Bocce, and Watto mentioned C3-PO. I did not tell Watto that I don't intend to sell him, but never mind that. He was still gone when Cliegg Lars and his son returned.

They entered and at first didn't see me, hidden behind the gigantic turbine engine that I was cleaning. I overheard their conversation from where I stood:

"If it could speak Bocce and help us repair the damaged vents every season, then it would be really worth the investment. If not, then, we might as well forget about it."

"Do you think anyone is here?" the son said. "Hello!"

By then, I had managed to make my way out from behind the turbine and greeted them. "My master isn't in right now, but perhaps I could help you?"

They explained their predicament, and soon Owen launched into a very feeling personation of Watto's Toydarian accent,

"Ehhh! Thisa slave here, heh heh heh... she's good at latsa stuff, eh?"

"Owen, stop it!" his father snapped. " That's very rude."

"It's alright," I said, smiling. "His voice is unusual."

"No," Cliegg Lars gave his grown son a reproving glance. "Don't talk about this slave, you don't know her."

"I'm sorry," Owen apologised. "But I'm sure you are good at lots of … stuff..." he finished lamely. Cliegg Lars rolled his eyes, but then turned back to me.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Shmi," I told him, "Shmi Skywalker."

"Shmi," he said, and there was this slightly queer expression on his face when he said it that I haven't forgotten. There was a long pause, and then he said,

"What I'm wondering is – do you think your master would part with you?" Owen clattered over the part he was looking at and I narrowly managed dropping the hydrospanner I held in surprise. Just then, the unmistakable sound of Watto's wings were heard, and he entered the shop, all welcome and eagerness to please.

Without skipping a beat, Cliegg Lars said "I was just talking to your slave here about the possibility of purchasing her for work on the vaporators, instead of the droid." I could only stand there while Watto hemmed and hawed, and they began to haggle over prices. It is the most helpless feeling in the world. At last they agreed. I am to leave in the morning for the moisture farm, and close the door on yet another chapter in my life. In a way, I think I will miss the places I have come to know – the places Anakin used to be with me. But that is why I think it might be good. I haven't done any real work in so long, and although I will never cease to miss him, being somewhere Anakin never will be might not be entirely bad. At least the Lars' seem to be nice. I only know a little about moisture vaporators, and hope I can prove worth their while.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

I arrived at the moisture farm this morning, and was greeted by Owen. "Hello!" he said cheerfully. "Was it too long of a journey?" Surprised by his kindness, I shook my head.

"Not as bad as I expected."

He laughed at that, and just then my new master came into the room. "Glad you are here," he smiled. "Have you brought your droid friend?"

"3-PO is outside," I said. "Do you want him to come in?"

"No, the other droids can look after him. You won't mind if we assign him to do a few easy tasks now and then, will you?"

I could not believe they really were asking me, so I said, "You'll have to ask him." Cliegg Lars laughed too – his laugh is just the same as his son's. "Come on, then." He beckoned me to follow him. "We'll get you settled in."

All day I have been shown around the moisture farm, which is a very interesting venue. At noon we ate a simple lunch, and Owen's friend, a young girl named Beru Whitesun, joined us. She has blonde hair and large round eyes – I believe her family is in moisture farming as well, near Mos Eisley. She said she and Owen have been friends for years, and the two laughed and talked together long after the meal was finished. My master told me of how this moisture farm was his father's, and he was supposed to inherit it, but he ran away to fight in a war in the Core Systems. There he met a girl – Owen's mother – and married her, but she died shortly afterward, leaving him to return with his baby son, reconcile with his parents, and carry on the family business.

"You probably wouldn't understand, but it was awfully strange going on for so many years with just myself and little Owen," he finished. I looked at my crossed arms, and then back at him.

"You might be surprised," I said, and I told him, quietly and briefly, about Anakin. My master looked intrigued, and asked if I missed my husband. I shook my head, letting him think what he would.

"I hope you can see Anakin again someday," Cliegg Lars said. I like the way he said my son's name – he sounded as if he would truly like to meet him. I hadn't realized how much I missed talking about him and hearing his name.

"He said he will come back," I smiled. My master just nodded, and then watched as I began to clear the table. How many more times will my life change before then? I can only wonder.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Today has been one of the happiest days of my life since my darling Anakin was born. I did not think it were possible for anything good to yet happen to me, but working for the Lars family is bringing me so much joy, and makes me feel a part of a family for the first time since I was six years old.

My shoulder is very sore – this morning Cliegg Lars insisted that he remove my transmitter. Though Watto deactivated it after Anakin left, my master would not stop there. This morning he came to my room and knocked softly on the edge of the entryway.

"Am I disturbing you?" he asked kindly. I stood, and bowed my head in respect.

"No. Do you need me for something?"

"Actually, yes," he smiled. "Come with me."

I followed him across the sunken courtyard and into the rooms that he and Owen shared. He told me to sit on a chair that he set for me in the doorway, where it was brightly lit by the sun shining on the dome above us. He gestured toward my collarbone.

"This is going to hurt, but I think you'll be glad when it's gone."

I swallowed, and nodded, too surprised for words. He turned his back while I slipped out of my tunic and bound my mantle around myself for a covering, while leaving my shoulder exposed. I was conscious of shaking slightly as I sat back down, and stared straight ahead as my master pulled up a stool by my side. Just then footsteps sounded in the courtyard, and a voice called,

"Dad? Beru is here and she said-"

"I'm busy, Owen. Give us a few minutes – I'll be with you shortly."

"Alright..." And the footsteps retreated.

"Sorry about that," my master murmured, giving me a brief smile. "It'll be done in no time."

He produced a narrow laser and made a small incision in the scarred skin of my shoulder, probing gently with his fingers for the implant, using a small pressor generator to stop it from bleeding. I did my best not to wince, but when his fingers located the chip, pressing it into my collarbone, I flinched, and squeezed my eyes shut. I wished I had closed my eyes from the beginning – I found it so much easier not seeing his face so close to mine, even though I could hear and feel his breathing as he carefully extricated the transmitter, and closed the wound with the pressor generator.

"Shmi –" he said, giving that funny look that I had noticed the only other time he said my name, which was when he bought me from Watto, "I don't need a slave. Now you are really free." He met my eyes.

My heart was beginning to beat faster as I realized what he had said. I am free... I am not a slave any more. I could not resist asking, as politely as I could,

"Sir, then why did you buy me if you didn't want me?"

He laid a work-hardened hand – a warm hand – on my good shoulder, and said in a low voice,

"I never said I didn't want you. I bought you because I did want you. Not to be my slave. To be my wife."

I was speechless. Even now, I hardly know what to think. He is kind – very kind. And I love his family. I think I could love him. I think I could be happy here – no, I _know_ I will be happy here.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

This is no longer the journal of Shmi Skywalker, but of Shmi Lars. It sounds so strange – sweet Beru made me say it to her this morning as she helped me get ready, and then say it again when I stuttered over the newness of it. She has a sweet bright disposition, and is full of sensible talk and ideas. She confessed to me, blushing as she twined my hair about my head, that she hoped that she could marry Owen someday so that I could be her mother. Her mother, I'm presuming, is dead. I rose and hugged her, and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. Perhaps someday she will be my daughter. Owen calls me Mother Shmi, and it makes me very happy. I only wish Anakin could have been here. He would be 13 years old now – an important age to one training to be a Jedi, I hear. I wonder what he would think of it all. I like to think he would approve. Owen is a little older than Ani, but I like to think they would get along even though they are very different. I love Owen, but I can never love him as I love Ani.

The ceremony was simple, and brief. I almost can't believe it has happened at all. Cliegg wore a neater, finer version of the farm tunic I have always seen him in, and Beru's family attended. I enjoyed meeting them – they were kind. Other than that, there was little fuss, though Wald stopped by on a swoop bike just a little while ago bearing Watto's good wishes. I wonder how he heard, and what he thinks of all this. He probably can't believe it either.

I sleep with my husband now. It is very strange, but he does not make me uncomfortable. He watched me our first night as I ignited a glowrod that I have always put in the window, to remind myself to be ready in case Anakin were to return. Suddenly, I felt a sinking feeling, knowing that he would not know where to look for me now. I sat up a long while, keeping vigil, as I say, and directing my thoughts on his behalf. I wonder if he can sense me through the Force. I would not be surprised. Cliegg waited for me in patient silence, seeming to understand. When I at last took a deep breath and came to him, he embraced me, and we lay down to sleep side by side. It was the first time I had ever been with a man in the night. But he is my husband. It somehow still felt wrong. Perhaps these feelings will pass in time.

This morning I rose and prepared breakfast for Cliegg and Owen, and the Whitesuns, who had stayed the night. It was a happy time of laughing and celebrating. Then we all returned to our work for the remainder of the day. Just like that. Moisture farming is an all-consuming life. But it is a good life. I am learning so much, and enjoying every moment of my new family.

That is so strange to record. My family. My family is Ani. Somehow, I feel I cannot ever properly have both. I have not spoken these thoughts to anyone, not even Cliegg. He has been more than kind to me, and says that I make him so happy.

That is it. This data tablet divides my loyalties, connecting me to my past. I will write only when there is something extraordinary to record now. I must live in the present – and not look back.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Such an interesting coincidence has occurred – I have seen Sorna again! When we heard that we were going to Tatooine I remembered it as the place she was sent to years ago, after Pi-Lippa's death. At first I held high hopes of seeing her again, but soon realized that across a whole planet, it would be very difficult to locate one old woman. She has been living far out across the Dune Sea all these years, and when in Mos Espa recently, met Jira, who must have told her about Ani. She recognized his description, and traced me here. She did love Ani so. It was so good to see her again, and to catch up on each others lives.

I still watch the stars, hoping that Anakin might be returning. But they stare back at me steadily every night and I have not seen a single star ship that could be him coming back to me. Still, I am happy. Cliegg, myself, and Owen have grown to be quite close. I love to tell them stories about Anakin and his doings, and they all hope for his return someday too. Owen especially wishes to meet him.

Beru is going to be staying with us now, as Tuskens have begun to raid the area of her family's farm, and she was often left alone there. I am very glad to have her. It is such fun to have someone so like a daughter to me. She loves Owen more and more as they grow older, and she and Father Cliegg, as she calls him, entertain us with their lively sparring and never-ending wit. I would not have thought such a decided tongue resided in the head of this pretty sweet girl, but she is smart, knows what she thinks, and is not afraid to try and convince others to think it too. In some ways she reminds me of Qui-Gon's young companion that I met years ago.

I have reprogrammed my datapad somewhat so that it now helps me with my work here. I no longer have to hide it, and wear it on my belt all day long, but rarely make entries anymore. I still have not told my family about this record. I feel somehow that it should remain a secret. Who knows. Maybe that is not up to me.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Must enter this. Very dangerous, but must enter this. I am a captive in the Tusken Camp. Startled and overcome on my way home from gathering vaporator mushrooms today. A rescue was attempted, but failed. I saw so many killed. I did not see Cliegg. Nothing to eat or drink for ten days. New method of torture every day. I will not give up. I must wait for Anakin. They will return any moment to bind me again. Ani – I love


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

It has been thirty years since the last entry of Shmi Skywalker. My name is Anya Darklighter, and I have read and understood all that has been recorded here. My family just bought the ruined Lars moisture farm, and I found this near a one of the vaporators. How it came to be there I know not. If it was returned with the body Anakin Skywalker brought back from the Tusken camp and then hidden, or misplaced for an entire generation...

The Lars homestead was raided and burned years ago, and Owen and Beru Lars were killed. Their foster son, Luke Skywalker, left Tatooine. My late uncle, Biggs Darklighter, was his best friend. Tales have been circulating about Luke's lost twin sister, Leia Skywalker, marrying a rascal from these parts. I intend to give this record to her, as is her right, as soon as I can manage to make contact. I believe Kitster, Anakin's old friend, knows the scoundrel she is marrying and when they are coming here. I hope anyone who reads this can forgive the eyes of a Darklighter reading the Skywalker's secrets. Goodness knows there have been many more since.

Anya Darklighter, 8 ABY


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Well, hello. I hardly know what to write, or what to think. Reading the entries in this datapad made by a grandmother I never knew, about a father I never knew is enough to make anyone feel lost and emotional, and I have never considered myself to be the lost and emotional type.

Without a doubt, she was a strong woman, and I admire her. I am proud to be her granddaughter, and only wish I could have known her. She would be surprised at how many things have changed in the universe if she knew.

And yet, I envy her. I never knew my father except in thought. I have been in the same room with him without knowing who he was. I have hated him. He has killed so many. And this little Anakin Skywalker was the beginning... I envy Shmi in that she did not live long enough to know what he became. Through the temptations of the dark side, and mistake after mistake, he turned into something horrible, the destroyer of the galaxies, instead of their hero.

Luke has forgiven him. But I don't know if I can. I am like him in more ways than is easy for me to admit. I have seen him since his death in a vision of the Force, along with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Master Yoda. He was young – handsome. He looked like Luke. I cannot say how strange it is to have a background – a history, and then suddenly discover that you actually don't – it is a lie, and something else is actually your history. And then you read it...

I can identify with Shmi. And I will agree with her, it is very difficult to keep yourself to a promise you require of others. Don't look back. So now, I am going to challenge myself, and you. Forgive him. I know that Shmi would, if she had lived. Remember that inside that mask, beneath that tall black form, were a pair of deep blue eyes, full of questions, and hurt from a difficult life. Beneath that suit was a scarred body, full of pain, covering a heart even more scarred and full of pain. And inside all of us, runs the blood of a thousand generations of strong, brave, wise people who were heroes, who made mistakes, who lived and loved, just like we do. Forgive them. And look forward.

May the force be with you.

Leia Organa Solo


End file.
